Mr Hutton:End of t’ school day! There is something magical about seeing all those little kiddies with smiles on their faces, rushing out to their mams and dads isn’t there Mr Boycott.

Mr Boycott:Aye Mr Hutton. That and t’ looks of abject horror on t’ parents faces when they see all the reading, and times tables, and words in French, parlez-vous Francais, that they have to learn by the end of t’ week.

Mr Hutton:I asked mine to learn ‘clairvoyant’.

Mr Boycott:They didn’t see that one coming.

Mr Hutton:I’m just making a brew. Would you like one?

Mr Boycott:Aye Mr Hutton. Best drink of t’ day! Very gracious of you! I said very gracious of you.

Miss Trueman:It’s this article in t’ Education News. If I want a pay rise I’m going to have to work extra hours.

Mrs Close:Fair play lass! You don’t get owt for nowt in this game.

Miss Trueman:I know that Mrs Close, but I’m already working 21 hours a day and paying t’ Head teacher for t’ privilege.

Mr Hutton:I was reading that we are only going to get more cash if t’ results improve.

Mrs Close:Not a problem Mr Hutton. I haven’t got any more of those level 3s in my class this year!

Mr Boycott:What have ye done with them? Locked them in t’ cupboards like t’ last time?

Mrs Close:No! I’ve moved them?

Miss Trueman:Moved them! What on earth do you mean?

Mrs Close:Not actually physically moved them per se! My youngest son Richard the third (pause) of my children is a genius on t ‘interweb. He hacked int’ t’ database of t’ local authority and gave them all a new post code. They’ve all had to leave, and all get bussed of to Manchester!

Mr Hutton:Best place for them I say! I said best place for them.

Mr Boycott:But your class is full Mrs Close.

Mrs Close:Aye Mr Boycott it is. Of level 5 children. Our Richard hacked t’ details of t’ posh school up t’ road. All those kids from t’ private estate at top of hill have got to come here now.

Mrs Trueman:You mean with t’ dads who speak like William Hague and t’ mums who sound like Dame Judi Dench.

Mr Hutton:You’re a canny one Mrs Close! I said you’re a canny one! Wouldn’t you agree Mr Boycott?

Mr Boycott:Aye you’re right there Mr Hutton. Is that why we haven’t been turned into an academy yet?

Miss Trueman:Has teaching always been like this Mr Hutton?

Mr Hutton:No lass! I remember when we didn’t have to set a target for t’ number of times a child used the –oo- sound in a book.

Mr Boycott:That’s nothing! I recall when there wasn’t a National Curriculum and we could teach whatever we wanted. I remember teaching nothing but the works of The Brontes and Alan Bennett for a whole year.

Mrs Close:In them days I would keep a field trip on t’ moors for two weeks without a worry for risk assessments or Health and Safety.

Mr Hutton:In a tent!

Mrs Close:Aye!

Mr Hutton:You were lucky! I once re-enacted t’ Battle of Marston Moor on the playground in a force 9 gale, in full battle dress and with replica weaponry.

Mr Boycott:Me too. Battle of Wakefield! Wooden replicas?

Mr Hutton:Aye!

Mr Boycott:Luxury! We had original axe heads! And a pot of glue to stick t’kids ears back on!

Mrs Close:Right! I remember when I could get in here at 9 o’clock just as t’ kids were arriving, have a fag in t’ staffroom, meet t’ inspectors for a pie, a pint and a game of darts, not fear for your job, give t’ kids a clip round t’ ear for being cheeky, just give a big tick for your marking, and go home at the same time as your class.

Mr Hutton:Aye! Them were the days!

Mr Boycott: And you try and tell the young teachers of today that ..... they won't believe you.